Secrets, Secrets
by Center of the Galaxy
Summary: "'If you do this,' Dean began, 'You could bring down the wall. You could die.' Sam nodded. He understood that; he really did. But, he couldn't let his soulless self's actions hurt any more innocent people. 'I have to do this, Dean.'" *three-shot*
1. Memories

_**Author's Note: **__I'll admit it, I love Psych and I miss it terribly now that it ended. Psych and Supernatural are one of the few shows that I really think could pull off a crossover, though I know it will never happen in real life. So, this is my product of wishing for that crossover and my sadness over losing one of my favorite TV comedies. This is my first time writing for any of the characters from Psych. My apologies if they are out of character. Please enjoy! Set in later season 6 of Supernatural and before season 7 of Psych._

* * *

"_Cover your eyes_

_So you don't know the secret_

_I've been trying to hide."_

—_Ellie Goulding, "Anything Could Happen"_

* * *

"A what now?"

"A psychic detective."

Dean tilted his head to the side in confusion and put down his burger as his little brother came to sit down at the kitchen table across from him. Sam was doing pretty well considering he just had a seizure that scared the hell out of his older brother not even five days ago. All things considered, they were pretty damn lucky. Sure, there was the lingering fear of the wall possibly coming down but as long as he kept Sam safe and avoided anything that might trigger a hidden memory, then it would be fine.

If only Bobby would come around.

The gruff hunter had made himself scare ever since soulless Sam had vanished, but after Cas spilled the beans, Dean knew what a toll the knowledge of his soulless' self attack on Bobby was taking on the youngest Winchester. Just as much as his little brother could see the anger in their father figure's gaze, could see the way that the older hunter was doing everything in his power to stay out of Sam's space. The two of them were avoiding each other, which was fucking ridiculous if you asked Dean. They were family.

It wasn't supposed to be this way.

"A psychic detective?" The eldest Winchester echoed incredulously. "Seriously? They're all liars, Sam—"

"That's what I thought too," He conceded as he pushed his laptop across the way. Headlines for various newspapers were displayed on the screen. _Shawn Spencer solves kidnapping. Shawn Spencer stops bank robbery. Shawn Spencer returns priceless jewels—_the list went on and on. "The guy's cracked over 40 cases while working with Santa Barbra Police Department. That's not just good luck, you and I both know that."

"So, what?"

"So," Sam began, suppressing a sigh and Dean nearly beamed. This was his little brother, annoyed and all. This was the man who had saved the world, who would get himself nearly killed to save a stranger. This was his brother. "Maybe the guy can give us a lead on Eve or something."

"If this guy is such a big deal," Dean began, finishing up his burger. "Why haven't we heard about him?"

"Bobby was going to look into it," The youngest Winchester replied. "That's why he asked us, I guess. He wants us to make sure this," He glanced at the computer screen. "Shawn Spencer is actually psychic before he starts sending hunters to him. Besides, this guy might not know anything about the supernatural—"

"In a big city like Santa Barbra?" The eldest Winchester protested, shaking his head. "I doubt it."

"Regardless," Sam ignored him. "You want to go?"

"You know where to find him?" Sam nodded vigorously.

"He owns a psychic detective agency. I figured we could start there." Rising from the table, Dean picked up his plate and sighed softly. Santa Barbra . . . that didn't sound like a bad idea. It would give Bobby some space and time to come around and the new location might help both Winchesters relax after all this craziness that had ensued so recently.

"All right. I'll get the keys."

Sam just smiled.

* * *

Santa Barbra was different from most cities.

For one thing, people were so happy here. They walked on the streets with smiles on their faces, waving to the two brothers as they got out of the Impala. The sky was bright blue; the sound of the sea echoed in the wind, a hint of salt on the air. Sam smirked at his older brother's disgusted expression. Dean had never bought the whole happy, welcoming townsfolk thing. While they had their reasons to be suspicious, Sam still liked to believe that there was some good left in the world. With the wall still up in his head and the hazy memories of what he did as his soulless self still floating around, he needed places and people like this to keep him grounded.

There was evil in the world, but there was also good. He and his brother fought to protect people like this—people who would never know about them or the sacrifices they've made for them. And sure, sometimes he was bitter—who wouldn't be after everything they had been through—but in the end, Sam knew it had to be like this. If people knew the truth, the whole world would go to pieces.

"FBI?" Dean questioned softly and the youngest Winchester nodded his head while reaching in for his badge. The office was easy to find, easily visible from the pier. Bright green letters advertised it and within minutes, the two brothers found themselves in front of the door. They knocked and waited, both wondering what Shawn Spencer would be like. Both had dealt with psychics before, but never a detective with ties to a local police department.

No one came to the door; they knocked harder.

"FBI!" Sam called out, but there were no sounds of movement on the other side of the door. Turning to his brother, Sam shrugged. "Maybe they are out at the SBPD?"

"Worth a try—"

"Gus, dude, you're wrong! Pineapple is the only fruit you ever need!" Instantly, Sam's hand shot out, pulling his brother back. Glancing down the pier, the youngest Winchester could make out Shawn Spencer walking alongside his business partner whose name he couldn't quite remember right now.

"That him?" Dean quietly inquired and Sam nodded. "Let's introduce ourselves." They headed out onto the pier as Gus shook his head.

"Shawn, pineapple does not have nearly all the necessary nutrients that everyone needs!" Gus shouted, exasperated. "For the last time, pineapple should be eaten in moderation—"

"Oh, c'mon!" Shawn protested. "Pineapple is—"

"Shawn Spencer?" The duo stopped suddenly and turned around to face the Winchester brothers. "I'm Agent Wesson and this is Agent Hagar. Could we talk to you for a minute?"

"Wesson and Hagar?" The psychic muttered, amusement dancing in his eyes. "Like the gun and the guitarist? Are those fake names or did your families have some pretty crazy memories of the 80's?"

"Shawn!" Gus elbowed him in the ribs and the other man winced. "Forgive him. I'm—"

"He's Big-head Burton." The psychic recovered quickly.

"Shawn!" Gus exclaimed, slightly mortified. Then, facing the two agents, he tried to salvage the conversation. "I'm Gus, Shawn's associate."

"Assistant." The psychic interjected.

"Partner!" Gus retorted.

"Look," Sam interrupted, trying to gain control of the conversation before things spiraled out of control. "We wanted to ask you a few questions about your abilities."

"Okay," Shawn tucked his hands into his pockets, seemingly at ease. "I'll trade you a question for a question."

"Shawn—" Gus cautioned but his friend ignored him.

"Fine." Dean gritted.

"Me first," Shawn flashed them an easy going smile. "Are you two really FBI agents?"

"Of course," Sam lied smoothly, though he shot a confused glance to his brother. Was this psychic onto them? "Why else would we be here?"

"Not sure," Shawn replied breezily. "But I have met a few FBI agents and let me tell you, they don't drive cars like your Impala over there." He jerked a finger to where the car was parked and Sam's eyes widened ever so slightly. Maybe he had seen them get out of the car? There was no reason to believe in his powers yet.

"How long have you had your powers?" Dean growled through clenched teeth, obviously not enjoying being questioned about his status of being an agent.

"Pass."

"Pass?" The brothers practically gawked. Even Gus appeared taken aback by his friend's nonchalant answer.

"You do know that we can haul your ass to jail right?" The eldest Winchester challenged, though Shawn seemed totally at ease. He grinned and chuckled dryly while Gus grew increasingly more concerned with every second that passed.

"Get a warrant first gentlemen," The younger man replied calmly. Then, with a cheeky grin, he added, "Unless of course you've already figured out that your cover is blown." He smirked, leaving the two brothers speechless. "C'mon, Gus." Gus, as shocked as the Winchesters, followed his friend. They vanished around the corner. Sam recovered first, running a hand through his hair.

"Dude." He mumbled.

"You don't think he actually could be a psychic detective?" Dean's voice held a hint of skepticism, but not nearly as much as he had before. "I mean, the psychics we've met have never been that accurate before—"

"I don't know." Sam shook his head. "But, we can't go back to Bobby without an answer for sure."

"You want to talk to his boss, Chief Vick?" Sam nodded. "Okay, let's get going then."

_The way the light glinted off the gun as he pointed it at someone. He had felt no remorse when his finger tensed on the trigger—_

"Sam?" Dean waved a hand in front of his face and the youngest Winchester snapped out of it. "You okay?"

"Y-yeah." He stammered, pushing the resurfaced memory back into the darkness. The last thing he needed was to go all Hell-seizure on Dean. His older brother wouldn't let him go out on another case for at least a month if he had another seizure, something they couldn't afford to do, not with Eve out there.

"You sure?"

"Yeah," He shot his brother a grin. "Let's go."

He could keep this under control.

* * *

"And you two are—?"

"FBI." Dean interjected with a charming smile. Chief Vick did not seem to buy it and grimaced. "We, uh, are just inquiring into whether Shawn Spencer's abilities might be of some use to us."

"The FBI needs a psychic detective?" She scoffed. What was with these people? Normally, their FBI routine went off without a hitch.

"We're just looking into things." Sam informed her, though the chief did not seem to really accept that either. "Anything you could tell us—"

"Shawn Spencer is not a psychic." A man spoke up suddenly. His eyes burned bright with some sort of hidden fury and as he rose from his desk, the two brothers noticed the way he moved towards them with a purpose. "He's a fake."

"This is Carlton Lassiter, my head detective," Sam and Dean shook his hand. "Detective Lassiter, Agents Wesson and Hagar from the FBI."

"So, you think Shawn Spencer isn't a psychic?" Dean questioned and Lassiter quickly grabbed a case file from Chief Vick's desk. She shot him a glare but the Head Detective didn't seem to notice and opened it, eyes scanning the pages.

"I haven't been able to get any proof," He muttered with disdain. "But there's no way he could've figured out all these murder cases." He snapped the folder shut. "He had to be in on it."

"He's not in on it." Chief Vick sighed, plopping into her chair. She must've had this conversation once too many times before.

"C'mon Chief!" Lassiter groaned. "Remember the stunt he pulled with the cat?" The Chief nodded her head.

"Cat?" Sam echoed.

"Mr. Spencer's methods are a bit . . ." She struggled for a suitable word. "Unconventional, to say the least."

"A cat's owner was killed." Lassiter began. "Spencer picks up the cats, gets a 'vision'," He used air quotes, eyes rolling. "And says the cat knows the murderer."

"He did solve the case." The weary Chief Vick pointed out.

"Chief, so could I! If I had just a bit more time—!" Lassiter whined and Sam suppressed a laugh. He had never seen a police station quite like this—so friendly and welcoming. Chief Vick, as put upon as she came across, accepted Lassiter's complaints with a mother's patience. Any other city and Sam was sure Lassiter would've been dismissed within seconds.

"Look, Agents," Vick began, getting control of the situation. "Whether Shawn Spencer is psychic or not, I can't tell you either way." She leaned back in her chair and shrugged. "What I can tell you," She smiled softly. "Is that he solves cases. If your FBI is looking for a break in something, he might be able to help you." Her gaze sharpened. "Though, I won't make it easy for you two. Shawn Spencer is an integral part of our operations."

"We understand." Sam told her quietly.

"Thank you for your help." Dean said as the duo began to make their way out of the police station. "So?"

"We're back at square one." Sam mumbled.

"I know." Dean sighed, running a hand through his hair. "What are we supposed to tell Bobby? That there's a 50/50 chance of Shawn being a psychic? Those are crappy odds."

"We keep digging." The youngest Winchester remarked. "His dad lives in town, right? If Shawn was a psychic, I'm sure his powers developed early."

"Yours didn't." Dean pointed out.

"Yeah, well, mine were caused by demon blood." That whole incident still left a bad taste in his mouth. He didn't really like to think about the past like that even though he knew that his past is what helped defined today, as much as he wished it wasn't so.

_"I've met you before." The woman, blonde, blue eyes wide in fright backed up and hit the alley wall. "You and your brother . . . you promised you wouldn't hurt me!" He pointed the gun loaded with silver bullets at her heart. "Please, don't do this!" He fired it. _

_ He didn't even bother to clean the blood off of his shirt until the next morning. _

"Sam?" Dean's hands gripped his shoulders, grounding him in the present. "Talk to me, what's wrong?" His head ached, but it wasn't seizure sized. He had to pull himself together. He could handle this easy case. He had to prove to Dean and to Bobby that he wasn't useless—that he could still research and hunt! "Sam!"

"It's okay." He tried to soothe his brother. The pain was already receding and he pushed back the memories into the dark recesses of his mind where they, hopefully, would not resurface again.

"No, you're not." Dean grimaced. "You're remembering—"

"Let's just finish this, okay?"

"Sam, I'm not just going to take the risk that you could—" He was playing the stubborn big brother card. The youngest Winchester knew there was only one thing left to do—he broke out the puppy dog eyes.

"Please, Dean." His older brother hesitated and Sam knew this was his chance. "Just this interview. If it turns out to be nothing, we'll go back to Bobby's."

"Just this one interview?"

"Just this one."

"And then we go back?"

"Yes, Dean."

"If you feel sick—"

"I'll tell you."

His brother sighed, running a hand through his hair.

"Alright then," He muttered. "Let's do this."

* * *

Henry Spencer slammed the door in their faces.

Apparently, seeing through fake FBI agents was a skilled passed on from father to son. Sam wasn't sure what their next course of action would be. How could they head back to Bobby's with so little information? This was supposed to get him back into Bobby's good graces and now, it seemed like he would never get to the bottom of this matter. Bobby would never forgive him. Then again, why should he? What he had almost done while he was soulless . . . it was unforgivable. Sam should just get used to the way things were and count his blessings that Bobby hadn't completely cut him out of his life.

"So, that was a bust." He remarked as the two of them headed down the street and towards where the Impala sat.

"Do our FBI disguises suck that much?" Dean questioned. "I mean, that's twice in one day and Chief Vick sure as hell didn't want to believe us—"

"They're all cops though. Maybe we're just missing something that cops have—"

"We've fooled cops before." Dean pointed out.

"Yeah, but those cops didn't even really want to be there." He glanced at the sunset, at the people happily strolling around. Santa Barbra wasn't a normal city—people here were thrilled with life and cared for each other. The cops at the police station treated each other like family and family protected their own. Whether Shawn Spencer was a psychic or not was beside the point. They had defended him from what they considered "outsiders" and they had done a good job of it. "The cops here care."

"About the town—"

"Yeah, but about each other as well." Sam interjected. "They were protecting him."

"Well, as much as I'd like to admire them for it," He loosened his tie and shrugged out of his jacket. A warm breeze ruffled through their hair. "It sure makes our job harder."

"Agents?" The soft voice caught them off-guard and the two brothers turned around to see a young woman. She displayed a badge and Sam could make out the faint writing of Juliet O'Hara on it. Her blonde hair was pinned back in a ponytail though her looks were deceiving, she had the hard, powerful stance of a cop. "Detective Juliet O'Hara."

"Agents Wesson and Hagar." Sam introduced them, nudging Dean to put his jacket back on. "How can we help you, Detective O'Hara?"

"I've heard you've been checking in on whether Shawn is a psychic or not."

"That's true." Dean admitted. They all stood there for a few moments in awkward silence. Juliet seemed to be sizing them up, determining how much of threat they were. "Detective O'Hara—"

"Shawn and Gus have gone missing." Her voice cracked. "I need your help to find them."

"How do you know they are in trouble?" Sam shared a glance with his brother. "From what we've heard, it's not uncommon for the two of them to drop off the radar." She rummaged through her purse and pulled out a cellphone.

"And shouldn't you be asking Lassiter and Chief Vick for help?" Dean pointed out.

_"Detective O'Hara," _A mechanical voice stated as she played her voicemail. _"I have Shawn Spencer and his partner. Should you want them returned to you alive and unharmed you will deliver Agents Hagar to me by midnight tonight at a location I will send you. Should you refuse or go to the police, I will kill them." _There was a pause. _"Oh, and Sam? Welcome back to town." _The message ended and a chill ran through Sam's spine.

The pieces were starting to fall together.

Sam just wished they formed a different picture.

* * *

_**Author's Note: **__Part two will be uploaded soon. I hope you enjoyed it! If you have a moment, please review. Thanks! _


	2. Guilt

_**Author's Note: **__My sincere apologies for how long it's taken me to get this part up. Hopefully, it's better late than never. Also, I'm surprised by how many people haven't watched "Psych" and yet read this. I highly recommend it! It's quite a hilarious show. Please note there is __**a brief mention of suicidal thoughts in this chapter**__. Don't read if that might trigger you. Anyways, please enjoy this!_

* * *

"_Man is not what he thinks he is, he is what he hides." _

― _André Malraux_

* * *

"What are you keeping from me?"

It's Dean that asked him that, quietly, under his breath as they stand outside Chief's Vick's office. His brother's hand gripped his shoulder tightly, demanding his attention.

They were back in the police department after a terse ride over and Sam had to admire how calm Detective O'Hara was. Glancing towards the office, he saw her ridged stance and the Chief's crestfallen expression. Still, their voices were much too quiet to be heard and the rest of the department moved around without so much as a clue as to what was wrong. The fewer people that knew about this, after all, the better.

"Sam." Dean tried again, persistent. His brother's green gaze swam into his vision, cutting off the view of the Chief's office.

"There's nothing going on." He lied and Dean immediately shook his head.

"No, no." His brother snapped, waving his hand dismissively. "Don't even try to lie to me." His eyes flashed with determination, like lightning streaking a stormy sky. Then, lowering his voice, "The memories are bad, aren't they, Sammy?"

The blinds in the Chief's office closed and Sam sighed raggedly.

"I killed someone here." He confessed softly.

"Who?" Dean questioned, no hint of judgment in his voice at all. Brow furrowing, he added, "A creature?"

"I don't know." And that's what scared him the most. Killing a creature, yeah, there was a bit of guilt in that. It's not like he enjoyed taking the lives of anything, but creatures preyed on humans. Most of them had to die. And those that didn't—those that survived without eating human flesh—they were best living underground and away from hunter's eyes lest they be punished for their kind's sins. "I can't remember."

Dean took this in, thought it over for a few moments.

"Then, we have to go." He stated bluntly.

"Dean, no—" Sam protested, shock coloring his tone.

"It's not up for discussion, Sam." The eldest Winchester snapped, dragging his brother towards the door. "It's not our problem. The SBPD can handle it—"

"Dean, just listen!" The younger brother snapped, breaking free of his brother's hold. "Whoever took Shawn and Gus, they want me." He could see Dean's whole body tense at that realization. "And those two are going to die unless I go." Then lowering his voice, added, "And if it is a creature, these cops will be no match. They'll be slaughtered."

"If you go," His brother began, voice deadly, filled with the promise of wrath to whoever threatened his brother. "You'll die." He shook his head. "I can't risk you, Sam. Don't ask me to."

"I'm telling you!" Sam exclaimed, drawing some stares from a few of the officers milling about. Quickly, he lowered his voice. "I can't have any more blood on my hands. I have to go."

"What you did—"

"It wasn't me, I know, you've told me." Sam recited, tired of hearing that same refrain over and over again. "But Dean, it was my body out there doing who the hell knows what and now two people are going to die because of it." He placed a hand on his brother's shoulder, eyes wide and pleading as he met his gaze. "I won't let that happen."

Dean didn't say anything, but Sam could tell he was fighting every instinct in his body to stay rooted to that one spot. Normally, whenever Sam's safety was concerned, Dean's plan consisted of running away from it. And, normally, if there weren't two innocent lives hanging in the balance, Sam would follow through with that plan. It's not like he wanted to remember and experience another seizure. It's not that he wanted the wall to break and kill him.

But he couldn't let Shawn and Gus die because of him.

He refused to let that happen.

"Dean?" He started, a hint of hope entering his tone. "Please—"

The door to Chief Vick's office opened and a red-eyed Detective O'Hara stepped out. Ever professional, she showed no outward signs of distress, save for her eyes.

"Chief Vick wants to see you two." She eyed Sam and the youngest Winchester's heart went out to her. She obviously cared for Shawn and the fact that she was just as helpless as her Chief clearly bothered her. Juliet struck him as the type to take charge of situations gone awry, yet here she was—stuck.

Stuck in a situation he caused.

"Sam—" Dean started, but he ignored him and instead moved into the office, Dean trailing behind him.

"Shut the door." Chief Vick commanded, expression tense, voice tight and controlled. She leaned back in her chair and pressed two fingers to her temples, sighing softly. "Agents, I don't suppose you know who is responsible for taking my psychic detective and his partner?"

"No ma'am." Sam answered sheepishly. He'd been trying to piece together the fractured memories but nothing had come of it. Every time he reached for an answer, it just faded away before he got a chance to figure it out.

"I've heard the message and I have to say that the situation doesn't look good." She leaned forward, placing her elbows on the sturdy wooden desk and using her hands to hold her head. Her eyes darted to Sam. "Agent Hagar, normally I'd stick to protocol here, but we just don't have the luxury of time." She grimaced. "Right now, we don't know where they are and who knows when the location will be sent. It could be 11:55pm for all we know." Her voice trembled, an ounce of fear entering her tone. "I've called SWAT, but without a location, they're as good as useless and they'll be seen long before they arrive, clearly breaking the no police rule part of the message." She bit her lower lip nervously. "I'll be honest. In all my years here, I've never dealt with something like this."

"I'll just go, Chief—" Sam informed her.

Dean elbowed him sharply, eliciting a hiss from Sam.

"With all due respect, Chief," Dean interjected. "I think the best course of action is for us to leave and get Agent Hagar somewhere safe—"

"No!" Sam interrupted, glaring at his brother. "That'll get them killed for sure!"

"If you go, you'll die for sure!" The eldest Winchester growled.

"You don't know that!"

"Yes, I do!"

"Boys!" Chief Vick roared, slamming her hands on the desk as she stood up. "Enough!"

They both ducked their heads sheepishly.

"We're running out of time!" Chief Vick snapped. "Shawn and Gus need us all to focus."

"Chief Vick—" Dean began, but she held up her hand, effectively silencing him.

"Agent Hagar," Her gaze cut to Sam. "I need you to go. I trust the FBI has trained you in hostage situations?"

Sam forced his head to nod, though the only information he had came from police procedurals. But, he's dealt with tense situations before and he knew how to keep a cool head. Besides, it's best for him to go, especially since they don't even know if the person they're dealing with is exactly that—a person. It could be a creature—in fact, with their track record, that's probably what it is—and those Sam can deal with.

"You'll be sending him to his death!" Dean roared, directly challenging her. He leaned forward, eyes narrowed and gaze deadly. Fury rolled off him in waves and dimly, Sam wondered if he would have to pull his brother back before he threw the first punch.

"No." Chief Vick replied, the epitome of soothing calm. "He'll wear a bulletproof vest under his clothes. He'll be armed and wearing an earpiece and I'm sending Detectives O'Hara and Lassiter with you to provide backup should something go awry." She smiled softly. "They're both well trained with dealing with situations like these and once the location is sent, I'll have SWAT immediately on route and waiting for the order to go in." She met Dean's glare. "I understand you're worried for your partner, but I promise you, he will come through this. I will see to it."

"Chief Vick—" Sam started, only for Dean to curse under his breath and storm out.

The door slammed behind him, the blinds rattling.

"I can't blame him for being upset." She muttered. "The situation is beyond screwed up."

"He'll see that this is the only way, Chief." Sam told her quietly and she rewarded him with the tiniest of grins. Then, she opened her mouth to speak when the door burst opened and a breathless Juliet stood in the doorway. The Chief rose from her desk and Juliet frowned.

"Shawn's dad is here."

Chief Vick steeled herself and then nodded.

"Let him in—" She didn't get a chance to even finish her sentence before Henry Spencer rushed in. Dressed in a Hawaiian t-shirt, shorts and flip-flops, he seemed like he was ready to go on a vacation when he got the dreaded phone call.

"Karen, what the hell is going on?" He hissed, barely giving a passing glance to Sam.

"Agent Hagar, close the door." Chief Vick commanded and Sam immediately did as he was told, intending to leave. "But, stay here." She moved from her desk and came to stand by Sam's side. "Agent Hagar, meet former Head Detective Henry Spencer. He's Shawn's father. Henry, this is—"

"I know who this fake is!" Henry jabbed a finger in Sam's direction. "Karen, he and his partner are fake agents. You want to know how I know? Because FBI agents don't get to drive a fancy car like—"

Clearly, they needed to park the Impala further down the street whenever they decided to be FBI agents.

"The caller asked for him by name, Henry." Karen informed him softly. Placing a hand on his shoulder, she squeezed gently, grounding him and offering him reassurance. "He's the best chance we have at getting Shawn back."

"Mr. Spencer, I . . ." Sam's voice faltered. He didn't know how to apologize for embroiling his son in his soulless self's mess.

Henry's gaze bore into his and Sam forced himself stay still and not back away.

"You'll . . ." Shawn's father voice cut off, too clogged with emotion. He cleared his throat and then let out a breath. "You'll bring him and Gus back?"

"I promise."

Even if it cost him his life, Sam would rescue those two.

At any and all costs.

* * *

He found Dean in the driver seat of the Impala, Black Sabbath blasting from the speakers.

Silently, Sam got into the passenger seat and waited. Right now, his brother was processing everything, turning it over in his head and trying to find another answer. It was a quality that had always endeared him to John and one that had come in handy on plenty of hunts. You see, people assumed that it was Sam who was smarter, but intelligence came in many forms. What Sam knew in archaic languages, Dean made up for in practical skill and strategy. It was Dean that had insisted on extra plans in case one should fail while on a job and it was Dean that had saved his life more than once by his quick, on the fly decision making.

But, in this case, there wasn't another plan to create and he knew that Dean knew that.

Slowly, his brother reached over and turned off the music.

"Dean, I—" Sam started.

"If you do this," Dean began slowly, every word deliberate. "You could bring down the wall." Then, pausing for a moment, he added, "You could die."

Sam nodded. He understood that—he really did—but he couldn't let his soulless self's actions hurt any more innocent people.

"I have to do this, Dean."

His brother's response was to slam his hands against the steering wheel, causing the keys to jingle in the ignition.

"Sam, I can't watch you die again." He shook his head, voice cracking. "I can't."

"I'm not going to die, Dean—"

"You don't know that!" His older brother snapped. "Damn it, Sam! You don't seem to get it. There's a fucking psycho out there ready to put a bullet in you and you're telling me that you're not going to die?" His brother's face contorted into an expression of pure grief. He gripped the steering wheel as if it was the only thing keeping him afloat in this storm of emotions. "You think you have to do this to atone for some stupid sin you placed on yourself." He let out a ragged breath. "You don't owe anybody anything, Sam. You've paid your dues, man."

"I can't let Shawn and Gus die—"

"You don't even know them!" Dean hissed. "Why should you die for them?"

"Because it's because of me that they got caught up in this mess!" Sam retorted sharply. "And if it were you in my place, we both know that you wouldn't run either." Then softly, "You wouldn't let a bystander die for you. Don't ask me to."

Dean didn't say anything for the longest time. The silence seemed to engulf the two brothers and with it came the doubt and the worry that gnawed at the edges of their sanity. Sam knew there was enormous risk involved—risk of injury, risk of a seizure, risk of the wall collapsing and killing him—but he had to take it.

"You're going to do this regardless of what I say, aren't you?" He finally asked, sighing.

"I can do this."

"I didn't say you couldn't," Dean chuckled mirthlessly. "I just . . . am sick of watching the world keep doing this to you. You made a mistake, yeah, but fuck, so did I—"

Sam shook his head, "Dean, you didn't—"

Dean ignored him and plowed on, "Sammy, I've watched you die twice. The first time, I made it a few hours before I made the deal and the second, I only stayed alive because you asked me to." And then darkly he added, "Even that didn't stop me from almost blowing my brains out every other day."

The youngest Winchester flinched, though he had felt the exact same while Dean had been in Hell. Part of him had wanted to just place a gun to his head and end it all. The other part had been too determined to bring Dean back to let him follow through with his despair.

"I won't die." Sam promised, voice barely above a whisper. "You'll be backing me up."

Dean chuckled for a moment, the tension diffusing from the situation for the moment.

"Damn right, I will, Sammy." His brother murmured. "Let's see that son of bitch do something to you when I'm there."

"You and me against the world." The youngest Winchester grinned.

"You and me against the world." Dean echoed, patting his brother on the back.

They sat there together, no need for words to convey what they both already knew deep in their bones. They had each other's backs and nothing could ever change that.

"But if something does happen—"

A tap on the window caught their attention. Detective O'Hara stood outside, her hand clutching her cellphone.

Dean rolled down the window and she grimaced.

"I've got the location." She glanced at Sam. "We've got to move."

It was time.

* * *

_**Author's Note: **__This is now a three-shot since I couldn't fit everything into this chapter. I plan on having that third chapter up soon since I'm sick and writing takes my mind off how awful having a cold is. Anyways, I hope you enjoyed! Next chapter there will be plenty of hurt!Sam. Brace yourselves! Please review if you have a moment. Thanks! _


	3. Battles

_**Author's Note: **__I am so sorry for the super long time in-between updates! I'm back and ready to wrap up this crossover. Thank you for all your patience! __**Trigger warning for torture**__. If that bothers you, please don't read. Otherwise, I hope you'll enjoy the final chapter._

* * *

"_And if I share my secret_

_You're gonna have to keep it_

_Nobody else can see this."_

—_Maroon 5, "Moves Like Jagger"_

* * *

"Agents?" Detective Lassiter greeted them with a terse nod of the head as the duo walked back in. He was dressed in a bulletproof vest and holstered his gun to his side. He grimaced, shaking his head, almost in disbelief. "We're leaving in two minutes tops."

"Understood." Sam muttered, forcing his voice to remain steady and even, though deep down, he was scared about who, or what, he was going to face. His memories were vague at best and the more he tried to focus on them, the sharper his headache grew. He didn't know his enemy and he didn't know if Shawn or Gus were even still alive. That uncertainty was definitely not reassuring in the least.

He had to save Shawn and Gus, at all costs.

Even if he were to die—

"Here." Dean slammed a vest in his little brother's direction and Sam sighed softly. No doubt his older sibling was still upset with his choice to rescue Shawn and Gus. Not that Sam could blame him. After all, if the situation were reversed, Sam would have his doubts to say the least.

"Thanks." Sam put on the vest—smirking a bit at the irony of the whole situation; after all, here he was on the right side of the law—and watched as Detective O'Hara composed herself by her desk. Taking a deep breath in, she closed her eyes, and exhaled slowly.

Sam didn't know her exact relationship with Shawn or Gus, but they were definitely close. The way she'd almost broken down the moment she played them the voicemail on the street confirmed that. What her exact relationship was though—especially with Shawn, since Sam had caught Lassiter whispering something to her about her "psychic, too stubborn to die guy"—remained to be seen.

"Agent Hagar?" She glanced up at him, voice light and deliberately neutral.

Sam hadn't even realized he'd crossed the gap across the police department to come and stand by her.

"Detective O'Hara," He started quietly, an easy smile on his lips. "We're going to bring them back alive." He placed a hand on her shoulder. "I promise you."

"I know." She beamed, though the smile didn't light up her eyes. "Everything will be fine."

It would be for them, Sam would make sure of it.

This was his mess and he was going to clean it up—damn the consequences. If it cost him his life, so be it. He wouldn't let anyone else suffer for his soulless self's actions.

"You ready?" Dean was at his side now and Sam nodded softly.

"Let's go."

* * *

It must be an unwritten rule that all bad guys—supernatural and human—hole up in abandoned warehouses. Even in Santa Barbra, this seems to be the case. The warehouse is by the coast, close to the beach. The sounds of the waves and the smell of salt assault his senses. As the police car pulls around the bend, Sam can't help but wonder how many times he's stepped into one of these warehouses for supernatural reasons. They park down the street, out of the direct line of sight of the warehouse. Getting out of the car, Sam forces himself to take an even, steady breath.

"You understand what's going to happen?" Detective Lassiter is by Sam's side now, eyes locked on the building.

"Of course." Sam replies quietly, checking his vest, making sure it's secure.

"SWAT is en-route." Juliet tells the duo, placing her radio down. She forces a shaky smile on her lips. "Agent Hagar, are you sure—?"

"He's got this." Dean speaks up quietly. His older brother's gaze is downcast and his eyes are glistening, though whether that's from stress or fear, Sam's not sure.

"Here's what going on," Lassiter takes charge, glancing at the two brothers. "O'Hara and I will be right outside, ready to come in should it be needed." He meets Dean's gaze. "You'll be outside too."

"But—" Dean opens his mouth to protest, but Sam places his hand on his brother's shoulder, squeezing it.

"He's got it." Sam completes with a shaky smile.

"When SWAT gets here, we'll move in, grab the perp and get Shawn and Gus out of there." Lassiter continues. "Just stall until then." His eyes narrow and he leans in closer. "Don't be a damn hero, you got that?"

"Yes, sir." Sam replies quietly.

"Okay," Juliet whispers, running a hand through her hair. "We're ready." She and Detective Lassiter move to the side, the two partners discussing a few last minute details in hushed tones.

"Sam."

The younger brother faces the eldest Winchester and he nods his head.

"I know."

They've never needed to say things out loud, never had to take a moment for potential last words. Conveying those words through their actions every day, that's how they prepared to say goodbye. And this . . . this could be goodbye. Sam might walk into the warehouse and never walk back out again.

This might be the end.

"Let's go." Lassiter barks and Sam moves towards the warehouse.

He spares Dean one more look—a look that conveys anything and everything that he could've vocalized—and then he walks into the warehouse.

* * *

"Hello, Sam." A voice purrs as the warehouse door slams behind him, almost by magic. A man steps into the light and Sam flinches seeing the pure hatred in his eyes.

"You know my name, but I don't know yours." Sam starts, trying to keep his voice neutral, his posture non-threatening. He glances around the room, finally spying Shawn and Gus' passed out forms on the floor. There are no visible injuries on them and Sam breathes a sigh of relief.

"I didn't kill them." The man interjects, as if sensing Sam's thoughts. He's a plain looking man, dressed in a simple white t-shirt and ripped jeans. His blue eyes are almost electric though and the frown on his lips is so deep that it seems to engulf is face.

"Let them go, they are—"

"Innocent," The man completes, rolling his eyes. "I know, Sam. And, unlike you, I don't punish those that do not deserve it." He flicks his hand and a blinding white light consumes the warehouse.

Sam closes his eyes, though the light is almost searing and when it finally dies down, the youngest Winchester finds himself handing from chains suspended from the ceiling.

"Haven't figured out who I am yet, have you?" The man muses as he contemplates a huge array of knives set out on a table that seemingly appeared from nowhere.

"A warlock." Sam snaps, struggling to get free from the chains to no avail. His feet are just barely above the floor, just enough to cause pressure on his shoulders. He could dislocate them if he isn't careful.

"I'm Carly's husband." The warlock hisses.

"Carly?" Sam echoes, trying to place that name to a face. "Who is—?"

"_Please!" The woman pleaded with his soulless self to no avail. "Please, Sam, I promise, I haven't killed anyone! I live off of animal hearts, I swear, and I'm married now, my husband, Adam, he needs me—"_

_But his soulless self hadn't listened. He'd shot her, right there; let her body slump the floor and the life slip out of her._

_He'd seen it as black and white—Carly wasn't human, ergo she had to die. _

"She's the werewolf you killed in cold blood, you son of a bitch!" Adam flicks his wrist and a knife plunges itself in Sam's shoulders.

The youngest Winchester screams out as the knife tears itself through his flesh, burying itself deeper and deeper. Blood begins to drip to the floor and his shirt becomes stained crimson.

"Adam, I'm sorry!" Sam manages to get out through the haze of the pain. "I wasn't myself—"

"Do you know what it felt like?" Adam starts, grabbing a smaller knife off his table and coming to stand before Sam. "I came home and she was dead, blood pooling in our home." He ran the knife along Sam's neck. "I've waited for this moment, planned for this day." He grinned, a twisted parody of a smile. "And now, you will finally get to feel my pain, Sam."

"Adam, you want me, you can have me, but Shawn and Gus—"

"Are insurance." Adam interjects. "Against the fools outside. They won't dare come in when I have hostages." He smirks. "And by the time that the SWAT team manages to get past the little roadblock I set up, we'll be done."

Adam chuckles, pleased with himself.

"So, let's get this party started, shall we?"

And with that, Adam presses the tip of the small knife into Sam's neck.

* * *

"I don't like this." Lassiter growls, staring at the warehouse's now closed doors. He ran a hand through his hair and glanced at his partner. "It's been almost twenty minutes. Where the hell is SWAT?"

"Chief says there's been a pile-up on their route. They're coming as fast they can." Juliet murmurs, though her eyes too, were locked on the warehouse. "We have to wait."

Dean paces the ground, cursing internally. How foolish he was to let Sam go it alone? How much of an idiot is he? He knew that whoever was responsible for Shawn and Gus' kidnapping had a bone to pick with Sam. So what did he do? He let Sam go it alone!

Some older brother he is.

There's something supernatural in that warehouse; Dean can feel it in every fiber of his being. Waiting for the SWAT team that will never arrive is no option.

"I know someone." Dean tells Detective Lassiter.

"Another agent?" Juliet presses.

"He can help." Dean emphasizes. "I need you to let me run point on this."

"We have orders to wait for SWAT—" Lassiter begins to interject.

"Screw SWAT!" Dean roars. "If we wait any longer, my brother will be dead as well as Shawn and Gus, trust me on that one." He lowers his voice, pleading, begging, "Please, let me do this."

There's a flicker of indecision in Lassiter's eyes, but finally, he nods his head and gives his consent.

"Do it."

"Thank you." Dean tells him, sincerely. Then, glancing at the sky, he shuts his eyes and begins to pray for help to find him.

* * *

"How you holding up, Sammy?" Adam coos as Sam struggled to open his eyes through the waves of dizziness that seemed to consume him. The part of his brain still functioning informs him that he's probably going into shock. There's too much blood on the floor and if he loses anymore, it's game over.

"Don't call me that." He manages to say, clear and strong.

"I really am enjoying our time together." Adam states, almost fondly. "Carly was wrong about you. You are just like all the other cold-blooded hunters." He waves his hand and all of the knives begin to float in the air. "I wonder what face you'll make when you finally die? Horror, maybe? Or perhaps, a little bit of sadness?" He chuckles darkly. "I suppose we'll find out."

"Adam—"

"Don't worry about Shawn and Gus." Adam continues. "I'll let them go." He lowers his voice, sinister. "That's how much better I am than you." He sighs softly. "Well, I suppose this is goodbye, Sam Winchester. It's been fun." Another flick of his wrist and Sam braces himself for the pain of the knives cutting into him—

Only, they never come.

"Release him." A celestial voice growls and he can't help but grin, because he knows that voice, knows that it means the cavalry is here.

"I don't know who you are," Adam starts, growling. "But you will regret that—"

"No." The other voice continues and Sam manages to see a glimpse of his trademark trench coat and he beams. "It is you who will be regretful."

It happens fast after that.

One second, Adam is upright and preparing a spell and the next, he slumped on the floor, unconscious and cerulean eyes are meeting his.

"Cas." Sam breathes, smiling through cracked and bloody lips. "Y'came."

"Do not speak," Castiel's eyes scan over his damaged body and the angel grimaces. "You have lost too much blood."

The chains dissolve and the youngest Winchester falls into the angel's arms. He hisses as pain courses through his veins and feels himself being lifted by Castiel. The angel places Sam's arm around his neck and together, they move to where Shawn and Gus lie. Gently, Castiel places Sam down and rests a hand on his friend's cheek.

"There is too much damage for me to heal at one time." He confesses softly. The hand on Sam's check begins to grow warmer as Castiel's grace begins to engulf him. "I shall do my best."

When it's over, Sam's body still aches, but the major cuts have been healed and he can finally breathe without wincing.

"Thanks, Cas." He whispers, before turning to Shawn and Gus. "Are they—?"

"They're unharmed." Castiel confirms with a small smile. "Can you walk?"

"Yeah. I'm good." He forces himself to rise from the floor.

"Dean is waiting."

Sam nods, "Yeah."

The warehouse door opens on their own and before Sam can even take a step, Dean, Lassiter and Juliet are all running towards them, their expressions filled with concern and even some panic.

"Sammy!" Dean skids to a halt before him, before roughly pulling him into a hug. "Jesus, Sam, don't you ever fucking scare me like that again." His big brother is grinning now; his eyes sparkling with unshed tears.

"Shawn! Gus!" Juliet cried, coming to kneel by their sides.

"They're okay." Castiel informed her. "Under the influence of a mild sedative—"

Lassiter raised an eyebrow. "You can tell that by just looking at them—?"

"Agent Moscone has specialized training in medical aid." Dean interjects quickly.

"Jules?" Shawn slurs, his eyes blinking.

"Shawn." She grins, a tear rolling down her cheek.

"S'okay, Jules." He reaches up a hand and wiped the tear away. "Gus?"

"M'awake." Gus whispers, his own eyes fluttering for a few seconds.

"An ambulance is on its way." Lassiter informs the group. "Just to make sure everything is okay."

"Aw, Lassie," Shawn mutters, more energetic. "You do care."

"Shut up, Spencer." Lassiter replies, but he can't keep the grin off his lips either.

It seems that they've made it through.

An ambulance wails in the distance and Dean pulls his brother towards it.

"Let's get you checked out," Dean orders. "And then you tell me everything that happened."

Sam just nods.

* * *

"So." Dean stands before him, arms folded across his chest, head bowed in contemplation.

"So?" Sam sighs, sitting on the edge of the hospital bed. A few stiches and he'd been good as new. Castiel had managed to heal all the internal injuries and the rest hadn't required too much medical attention.

Shawn and Gus were fine once the sedative was flushed out of their systems. Sam can hear their boisterous voices now, demanding outrageous things like pineapple jelly all the while Shawn claimed he'd been on the brink of death, only for his father to dryly interject that it had only been a mild sedative.

They are okay though, that's what matters.

"You almost died because you went poking at the wall—"

"Because someone found me, Dean, not because of the wall—" He feels compelled to point out.

"Does it look like I care?" Dean snaps. "Sam, Cas told me how bad off you were—"

"I had to save Shawn and Gus." Sam replies softly. "They were in this situation because of me—"

"Because of your soulless self!" Dean snaps.

"Which is still part of me, Dean!" Sam shouts. "I killed Carly, okay? Maybe not 'me' me, but a part of me, Dean." He lowers his voice. "I was responsible."

"So, what?" Dean challenges. "That means you should just lay down your life for everyone that your soulless self might've hurt?"

"It means I need to fix my mistakes." The youngest Winchester informs his older brother. "And walking into that warehouse, saving Shawn and Gus—I don't regret doing that."

"It's just . . ." Dean's face fell. "I almost lost you, Sam."

"I know." Sam breathes.

"No, you don't know." Dean shakes his head, his temper starting to tinge his tone. "If Cas hadn't shown up, you would be dead. I couldn't help you—"

Sam reaches for his brother's wrist, squeezing it with his hand.

"Hey," He plasters a smile on his lips. "It's okay, Dean. It's over."

For one second, Dean smiles and Sam feels like all is right with the world.

* * *

"So, you two are taking off?"

The keys are jingling from Dean's hand when Shawn's voice filters in over the roar of the waves. The two brothers turn around to see Shawn and Gus standing before them.

"Seems kind of rude, doesn't it, Gus?" Shawn continues.

Gus nods his head enthusiastically, "Really rude actually."

"Especially since they came to investigate me and never even finished that—" Shawn smirks and Sam can't help but chuckle. Shawn might be annoying to some, but the youngest Winchester couldn't help but find him interesting.

"Shawn, you never finish half the things you start though either—" Gus muses.

"Dude, not true!" Shawn shouts, offended.

"Shawn, remember that time you were going to be a pineapple farmer?" Gus laughs at that memory and Shawn soon chuckles along with him.

"Look," Dean finally takes control of the conversation. "You going to tell us if you're psychic or not?"

"Nope." Shawn answers instantly.

"Then, we're done—"

"But Agents," Shawn interjects with a wry grin on his lips. "We owe you one." Gus moves to Sam and offers him a business card.

"Call us if you ever need something," Gus tells them. "It's the least we could do."

"But next time, use your real names," Shawn counsels. "I think Sam and Dean Winchester are more interesting than that lame cover story you've got going on." He winks at the brother's startled expressions. "And tell Castiel we said 'hi'."

"Wait how did you know about—?"

"See you around boys!" Shawn and Gus wave as they disappear around the corner.

"Dude," Dean turns to his brother, jaw dropped in shock. "What the hell is he?"

"I have no idea." Sam laughs. "But I'm glad he's on our side."

"What do we tell Bobby though?" Dean presses.

Sam shrugs, "I have no idea."

They get into their car, the engine rumbling a familiar and soothing rhythm. They leave Santa Barbra behind them, get back onto the open road that they love so well.

"Sam," Dean glances at him from the driver's seat. "You good?"

Sitting shotgun with his brother, classic rock filtering in from the radio, the wind brushing through his hair, Sam beams.

"Yeah." He replies. "I'm good."

And they drive on into the night.

* * *

_**Author's Note: **__And it's done! I'm really happy with how this came out and I hope you are too. I might write more Psych/Supernatural crossovers in the future. I really like the dynamic with all of them. Please review if you have a moment. Thanks! _


End file.
